


Intermezzo

by Akira14



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 04:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 11,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16401353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akira14/pseuds/Akira14
Summary: Chapter 1 - Martino waking up on Monday the 22ndChapter 2 - Giovanni POV (24th October)Chapter 3 - Niccolò's POV on the moments right after Friday's (26th October) clipChapter 4 -  SOS Martino Help Line (Gio POV, 26th October).Chapter 5 -  Martino's POV after he found out the girls were invited to the Halloween partyChapter 6 -  Post 5.01, Martino POVChapter 7 -  Post 5.02, Martino POVChapter 8 -  Giovanni isn't ready to lose Marti. (post 5.04, Gio's POV)Chapter 9 -  Martino Rametta is anything but boring. (post 5.04, Nico's POV)Chapter 10 - He's not worth it. (pre 6.01, boy squad POV)Chapter 11 - A glimpse into the future (Martino&Filippo + Nico, Marti's POV)Chapter 12 - Gio needs to know what Fares has planned for Marti's birthday (FUTURE FIC)Chapter 13 - Nico attempts to send Martino at least one text. (12th-19th of November)Chapter 14 - Gio's POV on Martino's coming outChapter 15 - My take on the end of episode 7 ;) (Gio's POV)Chapter 16 - Marti doesn't want to talk (8.01 - Marti's POV)Chapter 17 - Elia ha rinunciato a capirlo, Rametta.Chapter 18 - Frittini e pizzette (FUTURE FIC)





	1. When you hurt inside

**Author's Note:**

> Why isn't this in Italian? Well, I’m way older than Martino and his friends. Besides, I'm from a different part of Italy: if we have to go for unauthentic vocabulary in this I might as well just use another language all together.

He can’t sleep. He can’t eat. He can’t focus on a single thought in his head without feeling his heart break.  
Breathing doesn’t come easy as it used to.  
Why does he keep doing this to himself? Niccolò was just being friendly and he couldn’t leave it at that, no, he had to go and make himself miserable thinking that they were flirting or something. 

Last Monday he couldn’t wait to get to school, hoping that he would catch a glimpse of his crush.  
Today he’s back to wishing he could spend the whole morning in his bed. 

What if Niccolò blows his cover for last Friday night? It’s hard to stay on top of all the lies he’s telling and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t mentioned his mom to him yet… He was more than happy to ditch his friends back then, but now he feels awful at having them realize how bad he screwed up.  
Well… you dug your own grave Rametta, now lie in it.


	2. LIAR

Martino forgot the his earphones on the bus. The bus he was riding with his mom. Sure. Such a believable excuse, especially given the deliverance of both his best friend and the other guy.  
Yeah. Not even Luchino, bless his oblivious and trusting heart, fell for that. Elia was baffled, a bit outraged at being lied to but mostly desperate for some reassurance that at least Gio knew what was going on... but all he could do was share an equally puzzled look.

Something is as dodgy as fuck here, but he can't quite put the finger on _what_. What's with all this secrecy and the lies? Were they up to something dangerous, mixing with the wrong crowd?  
Is that the reason why he has been distancing himself from him? It would account for his evasiveness, spending time with someone who he didn't even bother to introduce to his friends. It would explain having to make an effort to approach Covitti: maybe he's been told to steer away from her? Marco Covitti looks like the kind of jerk who would do that, and 'curly boy' could be one of his classmates.  
Then something happened, something that made him change his mind and stop acting like he wants to be anywhere else but near her.  
What, though?  
Hanging out with idiots - damn, Gio wants to forbid Martino to see the 'earphones guy' ever again - might even be the reason behind those homophobic jabs at Mr. Boccia.  
Martino had never been that kind of guy, his approach to life has always been a mix of "live and let live" and "fucks given: - 1" . It doesn't make sense to start being an intolerant ass out of the blue.  
Still. What does all of that have to do with being reluctant to share a bed with him, or freezing up in his arms? When did he screw up so bad that his brother from another mother feels like he can't be honest with him, and tell what the fuck is going on with his life?  
What if that jab was a way to test him, instead? What if it was Martino's way of asking him 'if I were to tell you that I spent Friday's afternoon fucking a boy, would I be still allowed to touch you? Or would you think I've got ulterior motives or something?'  
A ridiculous notion, because being gay - or bi? - doesn't mean he'd just fuck any dude he came across. Come on. He can already picture himself beating the shit out of anyone implying he has to 'watch his back', if Martino does come out.  
It's true that Martino always getting in the way of him and Eva was a bit suspicious - not that he ever came up with non-existent family drama just for the sake of monopolizing his time: Giovanni is dead sure of that - and maybe he did rub a few out thinking about him but… Who could blame him?  
He doesn’t want to go there, though. Doesn’t ever want to ask Martino about it.  
What happens inside his best friend’s head, when he’s jacking himself off, is none of his business. As simple as that.

Or he could be completely misreading the situation and only realize what is truly going on when Martino will finally have a nervous breakdown. That’s what he fears. Martino bottling all of his hurt inside and then exploding, shattering into a million pieces and he won’t be able to do shit to help him.

 _‘Come on, Marti, **talk** to me!’ _ He wishes he could yell to him, if not face to face at least in a voice message on Whatsapp. It’s useless, however, and it will make it sound like Gio is trying to guilt trip him into confessing, when he’s clearly not ready to, and the last thing he wants is to make things even harder for Martino.

Seems like he’s not the only one who can’t stop thinking about what happened in the gym, by the way, judging from the message he just received from Elia.

[ **CLICK HERE FOR A CLEARER PICTURE OF THE CHAT**](https://imgur.com/a/nctdeKJ)

****

Teaming up to find more about Mr. ‘I could cut glass with my jaw (Niccolò???)' ? Give him a good shovel talk, no matter if he’s actually a threat to Marti or just coming on to him in a very convulsed way? He’d prefer the first, as he isn’t quite sure if he’s ready to face the fact that his best friend might prioritize this guy over him – he **did** ignore them all on Friday, for fuck’s sake! Besides, it doesn’t even look like he makes him happy, when Martino deserves someone who can make him grin 24/7. 

Giovanni sure isn’t gonna settle for less.  
Well, looking into this guy sounds better than waiting for a call or a text from Martino, who hasn’t been online since 5 pm.  
Seems like they will have to go to Silvia’s party, after all. It’s not like they show around a sketch of Niccolò - even though Elia is not that bad at drawing - and hope someone will say “yeah, he’s in my class!”  
There's Emma, of course, but he'd rather not involve her. Not when the solution to this whole mess might require her to show Martino that he's not into girls at all, no matter how hard he tries to deny it.  
Hopefully his hunch about the two having met at Radio Osvaldo is gonna prove correct and Niccolò is going to be there as well.

Just two days, in which he must make sure not to give away that he _knows_... At least when is around Martino.  
Then everything is gonna back to the way it was, with his best friend being in a much better mood and comfortable around him - no more lies, ever - right?  
He's not sure how much of this he can take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if we don't we Niccolò on Thursday I might write something from his POV?


	3. I'm on a high

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was born because @slaveofimagination asked someone to write about the boys right after Friday's clip. Some other fics in the SKAM Italia tag have already covered Martino's POV beautifully, so I decided to go for Niccolò's!

Karma is a bitch. One cannot bring his girlfriend along to a party, and then expect he won’t be interrupted when he’s about to kiss the boy who’s been plaguing his dreams for the last two months.  
Maddi is well aware that his heart is not in it anymore, she’s not stupid. The stress of moving to a new school, the workload of a 5th year student are believable excuses for their lack of intimacy but still. He’d try harder to patch their relationship up, if he cared.  
But he doesn’t, he can’t bother to do more than what’s strictly necessary to keep it on life support.

Enough with the bitterness and the regret, now.  
HE NEARLY KISSED MARTINO! WHO WAS DEFINITELY LEANING INTO THE KISS AS WELL!!  
He had been pretty sure Martino had some kind of feelings for him, when he realized how distraught and lifeless he had looked on Wednesday, but then again… Hate is a feeling too, isn’t it? And he’s pretty good at turning people against him, isn’t he?  
BUT NO, MARTINO DOESN’T HATE HIM!!!  
Perhaps he thinks he is a jerk, but the bright smile he has on his face ever since they ran down the street proves that he’s already made peace with it. Like _‘Ok, I’m into a fuckboi, but it’s cool. I dig that.’_

They keep stealing glances, sharing looks that could as well SCREAM “Drag me somewhere else, a place where there’s gonna be just me and you.” And he wants to, God knows how much he wants to, but having the girls around reigns his impulsiveness in.  
He better go home, where he can dream about a different ending for him and Martino. About having him on his bed, stroking his hair and kissing every freckle on his adorable face. Hearing him whisper his name repeatedly, with increasing desperation, like a mantra. Showering him with the love and devotion he deserves.  
Martino beat him to it, and they are both happy to let the girl think that it’s because he’s an old grandpa trapped in the body of a seventeen year old boy, rather than him having better things to do at home.  
With his hand. Thinking about Niccolò.  
Before letting Marti leave, though, he need to take **one** matter into his own hands. He won’t ask for his number, just like he didn’t ask to have his earphones back. He doesn’t feel comfortable taking the first step and Nico respects that.  
Nevertheless, what’s wrong with snatching the phone out of Martino’s pocket – and if he’s taken aback enough to let Emma’s hand go… Niccolò can’t really feel sorry about it – and type in his number? Nothing.

He’s so close that he can _smell_ him, but he’s not allowed to throw his arms around his neck and breath him in… and it doesn’t make sense. Why can’t he?  
Because no one is supposed to know about the moment they shared.  
_‘BUT I WANT TO SHOUT IT SO THE WHOLE CITY CAN HEAR!’_ says an overtly excited voice in his brain, the one that’s always the loudest around Martino.  
_‘Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we? You’re high on endorphins at the moment, don’t do yet another thing that you’re going to regret.’_ stresses his common sense.  
“There! Now you can call me, or text me, whenever you want. Don’t be a stranger, Marti.”

Once he’s gone, there’s no reason for him to hang around so he leaves with a promise to make it up to Maddi by going to the Castles with her, tomorrow,  
Fuck. Spending a day with her, instead of reaching out to Martino isn’t really what he had in mind.  
Oh well, there’s still the Halloween party on the 31st! He’s gonna make sure Marti will be there and he **will not** chicken out by asking Maddi and Emma to come as well.  
No way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The boy means well, but he can’t quite follow through with his plans! I still love you, Nico, even though you’re giving such mixed signals to poor Marti!


	4. SOS - Martino Help Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is partly inspired by something that @randomthingsnoonecaresabout wanted to see, with a a wonderful tweet by @melsweetea (https://twitter.com/melsweetea/status/1056883005581602818) added into the mix.

He failed Martino, again.  
He couldn't bring himself to be at a party where he'd have to face Eva.  
Elia wouldn't go without him either, and there's no reason to get Luchino involved. Even if they did he'd have probably been too busy mooning over Silvia, so... So there has been barely any progress concerning the boy Martino ditched them for. 

According to Laura's brother - who, apparently, sells weed to **everyone** in this school - his name IS Niccolò.  
Niccolò Fares.  
He is 5B now, was at Virgilio before. Nobody knows why he chose to move, given that it would have been his last year there... And it's not like Giovanni cares. Eva came close to taking the same road a couple of months ago, and she's one of the strongest persons he knows.  
Niccolò surely had his reasons, and hopefully he has found some peace at their school.  
From what he's seen on YouTube he knows that he plays the piano, but that's it. That's all he has on the guy.

It’s pretty hard to dig up dirt on someone who isn’t on any social media. No Instagram, no Facebook, no Twitter or even a Myspace page. It’s like he doesn’t exist.  
He should have been there – at that fucking party – because, obviously, something _did_ happen. Something that has Martino shutting everyone out again. Something **big**.  
Damn, he wishes he had Niccolò’s number so that he could nag _him_ about it. 

He’s about to send yet another message to Martino, trying to keep his cool in spite of his best friend’s idiotic attitude – THAT ASSHOLE HASN’T EVEN READ **ONE** OF HIS TEXTS, FOR FUCK’S SAKE – when he’s added to a new Whatsapp Chat.

 **SOS - Martino Help Line** , it reads.

What? Is this a joke? It’s not funny… Who the f-

 **Eva:** Hey, what is this about? Is Martino okay?  
**Elia:** YOU tell us, nobody’s heard from him since Friday night. I’m pretty sure Gio is this close to report him as him missing.  
**Gio:** I’m not. He’s probably just busy. Studying, for once. Or spending time with his mom.  
**Eva:** Or making out with Covitti, perhaps.  
**Elia:** WOT? MA BOI!!! GO AND GET IT!!!*so proud*  
**Gio:** Good for him, I guess.  
**Elia:** Oi, what’s the matter with you? Bitter that he’s getting laid and you aren’t?  
**Gio:** Wednesday afternoon. Gym. Earphones. That’s my problem.  
**Elia:** You talking about that guy?  
**Eva:** What guy?  
**Elia:** Just some guy Martino was basically undressing with his eyes. That guy?

Go ahead and out him to Eva, good job Elia.  
If he were a better friend he’d leave the chat, kill it with fire, and forget about it. But he doesn’t, because there’s a petty part of him that it’s what Marti deserves for all the bullshit he’s been feeding them.

 **Gio:** Him. And then he goes and spends the whole evening making out with a girl. I don’t understand.

Eva doesn’t seem to be quite as clueless on the matter as he believed. She types in and then deletes her message – debating how much she can say, without stabbing Martino in the back, most likely.  
  
**Eva:** Two hours.  
**Gio:** ???  
**Eva:** Two hours, not the whole evening.  
**Elia:** There’s still a lot you can do in two hours ;D  
**Eva:** Maybe he’s confused? Scared?  
**Elia:** Scared? Of what? I’m a bit shook that he doesn’t fancy ME, IF he’s into guys. I mean, who wouldn’t want a piece of THIS?  
**Eva:** Of course you had to go and make it about YOU.  
**Gio:** He wasn’t, I get it. What I don’t get is why does he have to go and pretend to be something that he’s not. How can he not know we’d accept him and love him no matter what?

The question goes unanswered, and now that he realizes he let his bitterness run wild he actually feels sick about the whole conversation.  
Friends aren’t supposed to speculate about such a private part of their bro’s lives. Fearing a confrontation would, inevitably, end up with Martino walking away from him for good doesn’t justify him talking behind his back.  
Alright. To make up for this, he’s gonna let Martino off with nothing more than an acknowledgment of what a jerk he has been for ignoring him.

Monday comes, and Martino looks unexpectedly happy.  
Flustered, when Gio and Elia team up to tease him about Emma – thankfully Elia has indeed taken his advice about not trying to force anything out of their friend – but a lot more relaxed than he’s been lately.  
Gio still worries about him, certain that he’s gonna soon relapse into a much sourer mood, but he can’t keep himself from smiling when Martino does.

_‘Finally you’ve got something good in your life, haven’t you, bro?_

He tells himself that it doesn’t matter what _that_ is, if it’s Emma or Niccolò. He will know in due time.  
It doesn’t ease the pain, it doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s losing his best friend and he isn’t ever sure to what. Or to _whom_.  
It sucks, and he has no doubt that this will blow up right in their hands any day now.  
He can only brace himself for the explosion.


	5. Andante, patetico

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Niccolò plays the piano it seemed somehow fitting to choose musical terms to convey the mood of this drabble. Listen to it here: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHxPEHFO-0U](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHxPEHFO-0U%22)

He’s no better than the girls he made fun of for years.  
 _‘Look at them running back to that bastard, tails between their legs as though they are the one at fault. Where’s the dignity in that? Haven’t they got no pride?’_  
He used to snigger at their ridiculous belief that their boyfriend would change, this time.   
That he’d stop lying, stop sleeping around and turn into the perfect man. Yeah, sure.

How is he any different?  
Still unable to hate him for sending such fucking mixed signals.  
Still hanging onto any shred of hope that Niccolò is into him, that he’s not toying with his feelings and might be even considering breaking up with Maddalena.  
Despite having spent Sunday alone, after asking Nico to drop by, he had been dead sure that it would have been just the two of them at the party. No girlfriends allowed.

Why isn’t he running away? You’d have to be insane not to.  
Well, maybe he is.   
Dignity and pride are overrated, anyway.


	6. What a wonderful world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised @resplendenteven this fic as soon as 5.01 came out… I’m so sorry about the delay!  
> This is for @SpicyWolfsbane as well, though I completely flipped her prompt around (I can’t help but having the boys tease the hell out of each other) ;) !

_I see skies of blue and clouds of white / The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night / And I think to myself what a wonderful world_ (What A Wonderful World, Louis Armstrong)

******************************

  
  
He is not quite sure he wants to go out. They will have to eat, eventually, but it feels too soon to let the world in, breaking the spell they’ve been under since last night.  
He still fears he might wake up and realize it’s still Wednesday morning and none of this has ever happened.  
Well, real or not, it feels good so… he’s gonna enjoy the time he’s given with Niccolò and screw everything else. His worries, his friends, Emma: screw them. They’re still gonna be there on Monday, ain’t they?  
Setting them aside for a couple of days is damn easy, as he focuses on the heartbeat under his hand – the way Nì shivers for a second and then melts, how his nipple hardens from rubbing against Martino’s fingertip… should he ask him to take his fucking T-shirt off again? It would actually have a purpose, now, beside trying to make him all flustered. Failing miserably, he might add, because Marti enjoyed the view a lot – thank you very much – and Niccolò ended up being the one flushing from his heated stare.  
  
 _‘Oi, my eyes are up here.’_ He had mumbled, snatching the joint from his fingers and rubbing at his reddening nape. Seriously, this guy is such a sore loser…

“Hey, you know that the food isn’t gonna buy itself, right?” Niccolò asks, teasingly, but then proceeds to bite at Martino’s lower lip.  
  
“Doesn’t it? I thought it magically appeared on the shelves or your fridge…” He’s used this line before, but he can say it with much more levity this time, grinning until his cheeks hurt. “… but if it did, you would have actually made an edible carbonara two weeks ago, so I should have known it doesn’t.” Nope, he’s not been counting the days since he last spent a whole afternoon with Nico, not at all.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you, jerk face?” He grabs Marti’s chin, playfully, then leans in for a kiss, changing the angle at the very last second so that it lands on the boy’s nose.

“You love this face.” He finds himself saying, his brain-to-mouth filter completely fucked by having Nì this close. Perhaps, he hasn’t even heard that one word. Nope, no such luck: he totally did and he is now smiling so brightly that Marti feels his knees go weak.

“Maybe I do.” Fuck. He looks too damn serious. Okay, okay. Martino better keep talking, before the panic can set in.

“Yeah, right. My answer, by the way, is no. I’m never gonna let you forget about the time you nearly poisoned both of us, asshole. Not even death could stop me. I will find you and haunt you, just so that I can remind you about it. You’ll be stuck with me forever.”

Foot, meet mouth. Niccolò basically told him that he’s not too keen on talking about this kind of stuff and how it pains him to picture a lonely future… and here he goes making fun of it. Is he stupid or what?

“Forever stuck with you. Sounds great.” For a moment, Nico takes it in as the poor grim joke it was meant to be, but then he hugs Martino tight and brushes his lips against his neck, breathing in his scent to ground himself and calm down. “Don’t you dare go before me, okay?” _Don’t you dare leave me alone._ He whispers, so quietly that Martino can barely hear him. But he does, and his heart clenches painfully in his chest. Niccolò often seems larger than life to him, with his lighthearted and cheerful attitude… and then there are these flashes into a side of Nico that Martino cannot quite comprehend. Clearly, there’s more to him than meets the eye.

“Okay.” He plays with Nico’s curls, strokes his nape and his spine, hoping that his touch can provide him some comfort. It did, on the bed, didn’t it?

“Okay. Now move your ass and get dressed.” Nico’s voice is all soft and playful, as he raises his head and looks into his eyes. He could get lost in that mesmerizing, loving, gaze. It’s not that different from being high, physically unable to stop himself from giggling as his brain turns to mush and his limbs go all gooey and light. He’s light, yeah. For a while, indeed, the weight of the world is taken off his shoulders.  
He can’t have Niccolò carry it all, though. They need to share. How can they-

“Earth to Martino Rametta, is anyone there?” He insists, snapping him back to reality with a slap on his ass.  
Those hands. Damn. He had them trace the lines of his tattoos – ‘I take it back, you’re not boring. At all.’ He can’t forget about that, said with the reverence one would save for a true masterpiece - holding on to his shoulder… That’s not nearly enough. He wants them _everywhere_. All the time.

Does that make him sound clingy? Probably, but he doesn’t care.  
Not in here. Not while wearing Niccolò’s clothes, which look enormous on his lean frame but are quite tight fitting on Martino. He’s definitely going to steal a couple, so that he can have something to remind him of Nì even when he’ll be forced to go back home.

***

He **does** care, when they are walking down the streets. Not about whether or not he comes off as touch starved, ‘cause he doesn’t wanna hide from Nico and he **knows** he’s not gonna be judged… Not even about what others might think: they’d better have more important stuff to take care of than being outraged by two boys holding hands.

He’s heard enough slurs that they’ve lost any meaning to his ears. Words can’t break him.  
He’d rather not witness if the same can be said for Niccolò, however.  
He can’t be selfish and expose him, no matter how much he longs to brush his thumb against the other boy’s knuckles, rubbing soothing circles and sharing body heat through their intertwined fingers. He can’t. It’s too dangerous.  
All those headlines about the people who skip the ‘thinking’ part and jump straight to throwing punches, to beat the hell out of those filthy homos who are daring and foolish enough to flaunt their perversion… It has happened often enough that he fears for his life, and Nico’s, if he were to forgo all caution and reach out to him.

What he **can** do is to shove him with his shoulder, not too hard ‘cause he doesn’t want to tarnish that smooth skin with bruises. Not yet.  
Put his arm around Nico’s waist, to bring him closer and fool him into thinking they’re gonna kiss and then grab him in a headlock.

“Martiiiiiii….” He wheezes, barely putting up a fight. “I’m not really into breath play, if you know what I mean.” No, he does not. All right, well, to be honest… if he had to take a wild guess, taking Nico’s smirk and waggling eyebrows as clues… it might be something he saw in a video. Once. “Totally okay if you are, but that’s not the kind of conversation you wanna have _here_ , right?” For someone with the lung capacity of a five year old he sure talks a lot.

“Right. You wouldn’t even make it a challenge, anyway. You’d beg for breath in less than a minute…” Martino says, surprising himself with own brazenness, before he relents his hold on Nico and lets him go.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear.” 

They both laugh at that, and then fall into a comfortable silence.  
They have barely gone further than making out for hours, rutting against each other through the thin fabric of their clothes, but it takes a lot of pressure off to be able to joke about what’s to come in the future.  
Niccolò has already told him that they are going to move at whatever pace Marti feels suitable for him, constantly double checks if the other boy wants him to stop… but still. He can’t help fearing his lack of experience will turn their first time together into an absolute mess.  
_‘No. Stop it, you idiot.’_ Niccolò would never let that happen, and selling him short because of his own insecurities is doing him a great disservice. 

How can he be so cherished by this boy…  
By anyone, really, when even his parents barely acknowledge him? He can’t wrap his head around it. He’s a shit friend and quite the asshole by any standards. Just ask Eva and Emma. And yet, Nico takes in those nasty parts of him too, as if they don’t make him any less worthy of being loved.

He lets himself be lulled into a sense of domesticity, as they stroll down the aisles of a deserted supermarket and bicker about what they should or shouldn’t buy.

“Nì, put back that abomination in the freezer. Now. Pineapple pizza can only be used as a Frisbee, until thawed, and then it should be immediately thrown into the trash…. How can someone even think to put fruit on-” He doesn’t even have the time to finish his rant that yet another completely inappropriate item is dropped into the trolley.

“Hey! It’s way too soon to buy a Pandoro, which has probably been on the shelves since last Christmas and, for the record, everyone with properly functioning taste buds knows that Panettone is so much better. Next thing you’ll tell me is that you hate candied fruit.” He casts him a disbelieving glare, daring him to speak such an unconceivable truth.

“I do hate it, like 90% of people does, Martino. They even had an advert about that. The one with weird tastes is you.” His tone is gentle, and suddenly they are not talking about food anymore.  
Nico, who sensed his discomfort with PDAs and distanced himself from Martino, is now getting bolder and takes his hand to his lips, tilting his head to ask for permission to kiss it.  
It’s okay, there’s now one around.

He nods, whispering a “Is that so?” in Niccolo’s ear.

“Mhmh.” Nico mutters, on his skin. “Thankfully you have better taste in men.”

Screw caution, he’s throwing Nico against the nearest shelf as soon as those word are out of his mouth. Can’t have him thinking he’s got the upper hand or something. 

“I’m not so sure about that.” He says, grinding against him and then backing away just enough that he has Niccolò arching into him, chasing his lips for a kiss.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing? Right in front of my breadsticks! Get a room, you pervy little….” A booming voice, coming from behind them, breaks them apart. 

All Nico has to say is “Jump in” and he’s dashing down the aisles **in** a shopping cart.  
Who would have thought that something as mundane as getting groceries could turn out to be so fun?

“I ain’t cheap, I hope you know that.”

***

After eating a proper carbonara, they go back to bed.  
Niccolò’s phone keeps ringing and beeping, not unlike his own.  
He considers answering, for a second, and prompting Niccolò to do the same with his girlfriend.  
Girlfriend, huh?  
When exactly did he get himself into this High Infidelity* scenario where is the _other_ man, the secret lover? What does not giving a fuck says about him?  
Payback for the shit he pulled Eva through, is it? Could have been worse.  
He doesn’t even bother to check who’s been trying to reach him.  
Neither does Niccolò, too busy nuzzling his cheek as Martino ponders what they could binge-watch next.  
‘Black Mirror’ is awesome, but maybe a little too dark. Same goes for ‘Hannibal’. ‘Pushing Daises’ and ‘iZombie’ are cool, but a little too procedural for his liking. ‘Game of Thrones’ is too mainstream, he doesn’t know if he can trust Nico with the knowledge of his guilty pleasure – ‘Shadowhunters’ – and he’s running out options…

“What about Sense8? Or Shameless?” Nico suggests, typing in his choice.

‘Shameless’ it is, then.

***

They fall asleep halfway through the first season. Seeing kids having to deal with dreadful parents hits a little too close to home, but Martino has to admit that his life is nowhere as shitty as the Gallaghers’. Who are fictional, but whatever. His point still stands.  
There are, like, nine seasons… but he might be willing to catch up, if this is the stuff Nico is into.  
It’s not too bad.

He wakes up trapped in a bear hug, unable to move and with Niccolò’s bony chin digging rather painfully into his shoulder. There’s also _something_ nudging against his ass and he’s not freaking out or anything but maybe he should try to wiggle his way out of Nico’s arms, untangling himself and…

“Maaaartiiiii, would you stop being such a dick? You could have asked me to move…” Instead of pressing himself further into Nico’s erection, but what would have been the fun in that?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Go back to sleep, you octopus.”

Nico loosens his grip on Martino enough to let him turn into the embrace, and then bites his bottom lip in retaliation for the boy’s cheeky attitude.

“Fuck you, Marti.”  
“Fuck you too, Nì” 

The kiss soon turns into sweet pecks that lull him back to sleep. He doesn’t try to fight it.  
He’s got plenty of time to tease Niccolò with silly requests - ‘Draw me like one of your French girls’ is on the tip of his tongue – and find a way of having him play the piano without giving away that he looked up him on Google and saw that video.

About 60 hours, give or take, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *High Infidelity = Alta Infedeltà is a trashy Italian show about people recalling affairs they had in the past (and the cheated party eventually finding out)


	7. Fool in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Fandom (in general) made me wary of using 2nd person narrative voice, but I’m under no pretense of writing to please anybody but myself – of course I’m overjoyed if somebody else likes it as well – so be it. I’m going back to my one true love.

Well done, Martino.  
Hope you’re proud of yourself for proving that if he asked to jump, you’d say “How high?”  
You say you’re mad that he’s been ghosting you, but deep down you’re wondering what you did that sent him running for the hills.  
Maybe he is just going through a rough patch with Maddalena – he did tell you they haven’t fucked in the last two months, didn’t he? – and he was looking for a warm body he could share his bed with.  
It could have been anyone. You should consider yourself luck it was **you** , who happened to be there at the right time and in the right place.

Yes… but… The way Niccolò looked at you, the tenderness and the warmth of the kisses you shared… How can you have read them wrong?  
It seemed blatant that he was just into you just as much as you were into him.  
The red thread, the handwritten messages he left to make sure you would know he didn’t have to leave because of you… You don’t understand. What’s with this guy and his inability to be consistent?  
Being so fucking unpredictable is part of his charm, sure, but…  
Okay, it’s highly hypocritical of you get worked up over his evasiveness, when you are ignoring anyone but him. So what?

Fuck, if this is love… You can do without it.  
You’ve seen with your own eyes how it can tear people down, turn them into depressed fucks like your mother.  
Or maybe you’re not falling in love, you’re just falling to pieces.

_I don’t want love to destroy me like it did to my family._ (Family Portrait, P!nk)


	8. Cold War

He isn’t ready.   
Elia might be, but that’s because he hasn’t been Martino’s friend ever since they were asked to sit next to each other in primary school. That’s more than a decade, man. 

He can’t risk losing Marti over this, but at the same time it’s like he’s losing him already.  
After all, Martino vanished – dropped from the face of the Earth – for five days. Without even taking into consideration that, after getting over the righteous rage caused by absence at Luchino’s birthday party, they would actually start worrying about him.

Gio hadn’t even told the others about the phone call from his mum. That had him feeling like he had been doused with a bucket of ice cold water, already picturing Martino dead in a ditch or something. He still managed to spin a believable lie, telling that her son was on his way back home, but… He didn’t actually even know if he got back home safe. He figured he hid, otherwise she would have called again, sounding more and more frantic and desperate, but she didn’t, so…

That’s what he has to resort to, now, with his fucking best friend: guessing. Because they don’t communicate, all they talk about his how to get some weed or how to get into some pretty girl’s pants (preferably Eva’s) and maybe it’s up to him to take the first step and say “Hey, you know? I’m kinda flattered that you had a crush on me. Hope you found a boy that treats you well, or I’ll have a go at him for daring to hurt you.” Fares looked so tiny… it probably wouldn’t take that much to knock him down.

Yet, he desperately hangs on to a foolish and childish hope: Martino will wake up one day and realize he doesn’t have to hide **anything** from him. He could kill a man and Gio would gladly help him bury the body and destroy all evidence. 

Thing is, not all ‘smugglers’ are on the same page here.  
Luchino was slightly upset and disappointed that Martino hadn’t bothered to show up, but he chalked it up to having another fight with either his mom or his dad –or being too busy getting laid with a sex goddess, which was understandable too – so he has forgiven Marti already.  
Elia, on the hand, is on the warpath.   
He had to lay down plan for Monday, asking Elia not to be too confrontational. When Martino is backed into a corner he turns nasty, hurting everyone around him and himself in the process.

 **Elia:** I’ve been there, zi’. It’s fucking awful but it’s not a free pass for dissing your friends and feed them bullshit 24/7. Somebody’s gotta tell him.  
 **Gio:** I’m not saying you ain’t right, bro. I just  
 **Elia:** You just need me to bite my tongue and look the other way again. Can’t do that.  
 **Elia:** What I can do is pay him back.  
 **Gio:** ??? What u mean? Do I need to worry?  
 **Elia:** Like you aren’t already. I don’t wanna fight him, k? I’m talking about a totally different approach here.

A cold war. Giving Martino a taste of his own medicine and not by outright ignoring him – he did call him out on the lie he told his mother without even asking Gio to cover for him beforehand – but by not making any effort to include him.   
Not an easy task, when Marti looked like death warmed over and held onto Luchino as if he was the lifeline saving him from drowning.  
 _‘Stay strong. He’s gonna cave in.’_ Elia told him with a half annoyed and half concerned glare.  
That he did, on that very same day.

Luca said it’s all forgiven, and he thought it was the same for him and Elia but it isn’t.  
The rift is still there, a gaping hole between Martino and his friends with no one brave enough to set their pride aside and build a bridge over it.

It stings to see him come back to the gym, on Tuesday, with a dopey smile on his face. He wonders if it has something to do with Fares. Covitti told him that’s who he left with before they could even get to the Halloween party – yeah, that’s right: sue him for being alarmed enough to reach out to the girl who is supposedly his best friend’s girlfriend.  
He doesn’t resent him for being happy, of course, he’s relieved to see Marti like this but… Are they really friends anymore or just people who hang out together?  
If he can’t even share the good news with him, then what’s the fucking point?

He doesn’t want to be angry at Martino, but he can’t help it. The lack of trust on his part cuts deeper than the lies.  
He wants to believe that spending Friday night together will solve everything.

He knows it won’t.


	9. And you let him go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so there are plenty of fics from this POV but whatever. It's not like one more is going to hurt, is it?  
> Look, @SpicyWolfsbane, I used some more of your prompts ;) !

You take it back, Martino Rametta is anything but boring.  
He likes to make you believe he is, because it makes easier to blend in and disappear. You suppose it has its perks, the anonymity of being just another face in the crowd.  
Pretending to be what they expect you to be is not as hard, if you are not under their merciless scrutiny all the time.

He tries to go unnoticed, but he fails. Hard.  
He just can’t do it. Not with those adorable freckles and the deep brown eyes and eyelashes so long that you are mesmerized every time your eyes meet.  
Not with that smart-mouth – you could have never imagined that being called a ‘asshole’ would make your heart beat faster – and soft lips.

He is adventurous, and not simply because he followed you to the terrace or to a deserted swimming pool in the middle of the night. It’s hard to reconcile that the guy with the button up shirt could be reckless enough to through the hassle of finding the one place where they wouldn’t really ask for his ID or if he had his parent’s permission to get his tattoos and ear piercing.  
You were left breathless, gaping and aching to trace each one with your fingertips, when he _finally_ got undressed.  
“Take a photo, it will last longer.” He joked, blushing a little under your gaze. Shame you don’t have a smartphone and that the only decent camera in this house is your father’s.  
He is adorable, even when he’s mad – righteously so, since you bailed out on him for three days… - and despite being hurt by the harsh words he has for his mother, you were touched that he felt he could be brutally honest with you. It took nearly a year before you got to see the nastiest parts of Maddi, but Marti has never hidden his slightly misanthropic and callous side. He doesn’t want you to see him as this perfect guy who will turn out to be a dick later on. He’s letting you know that he can be a dick, sometimes, but you don’t really mind.  
You still like him. A lot.  
You _really_ wanted to introduce him to your parents.

You need to forget about that, now.  
Martino deserves better than a broken shell of a guy; he will find someone who can give him the love and support he so desperately needs… and that someone can’t be you.  
You have to walk away from this brave boy who gave you his heart so that you could break it.

 _‘It still can be mended, without me in his life.’_

It takes you two days to write a text that could give you some kind of closure, days that are empty and cold and grey. So blurry and lifeless that you feel dangerously close to the edge, grounding yourself re-reading the few messages you got from Martino.  
There’s so much you want to tell him; you wish you could make him understand that you never meant to hurt him, that you weren’t leading him on and that each and every moment you two spent together has been _real_.  
Your fingers slips a few times on the phone, as your tears fall on the keyboard, but you manage to put together a string of poor excuses to distance yourself. 

_‘Tell him you made a mistake. Tell him you’re over for good.’_ You ain’t selfless enough to write that, of course.  
There’s no hope to come back from this, but you still tell him that ‘ _you need time_ ’. Yeah, right.

Time isn’t what you need. Time won’t turn into someone you’re not, fix you so that you can be worthy of loving him.  
What you need is to get wasted and Covitti’s party will provide the perfect excuse to do that.

 _‘Mind adding me and Maddalena to the guest list?’_ ’


	10. I'm not worth it

“Don’t. Don’t go running after him, Gio. I know you’re worried, we all are, but he crossed a line.” Elia did too, he knows that. He’d do it again, since it has proved to be the only way to make Martino finally snap and break through the impasse they have been at for months.

Gio is still cradling his shoulder, muttering curses under his breath. It’s hard to believe his best friend just hit him where he knew it’d hurt the most, and then shoved him onto the ground. What the fuck had happened in that club, and why is he still making excuses for Marti’s shitty behavior?   
Elia is right: he has gone too far for them to welcome him back at the barest hint of regret. He needs to spend the weekend agonizing over his mistakes.  
Then, maybe, they can believe him when he comes offering his apologies on Monday.  
They are gonna forgive him, eventually. After a little groveling, perhaps. 

“So… Fifa tournament at my place?” Luca feeble attempt to lighten the mood has the other two smiling.  
If only they went for that option in the first place.

***

They tried to stick to their plan and have Martino come begging for forgiveness, they really did.   
It seems, however, that today their friend has got bigger fish to fry. The final blow to his castle of lies has been delivered and now he’s having to deal with the aftermath. Alone.

What. The. Fuck.  
If he has to hear another snide remark about his best friend’s sexuality, he’s going to break someone’s nose. It’s 2018 and people have no right to turn such a sensitive matter into the juiciest gossip of the day.

“Heard you like dick, Rametta, mind sucking mine?” Enough. No way they are gonna stand and watch Martino being bullied, no matter the bad blood between them. 

“Well, since you ask so nicely maybe you can shove this up your ass.” Elia gives him the finger and then elbows him so hard that the guy falls down on the floor. Giovanni grabs his collar and raises his fist, ready to beat this fucker into a pulp but a hand comes clutching at his wrist, stopping him. 

“Stop it. He’s not worth it.” Martino says, tiredly, shaking his head. ‘ _I’m not worth it._ ’ They all hear.   
He walks away, without even sparing them a glance.   
He doesn’t acknowledge anybody all throughout the morning, tuning out not only the voices talking shit behind his back but his friends as well.

Okay then.   
If Gio has to pull that fucking door off its hinges to get through Martino, then that’s exactly what he is gonna do.  
He’s done waiting.


	11. The boy is mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For @Nene_Rames, who came up with the idea (read about it [**HERE**](https://twitter.com/Nene_rames/status/1058789206896635904) ) : I’m sorry it took me so long to write this little! Hope you will like it ;)

Martino isn’t one to condone jealousy.  
His opinion on the matter is that if there is no trust then one is better off alone than constantly doubting their lover, second guessing their every word and giving in to their vilest controlling and rather stalkerish impulses.  
Possessiveness he can understand: sometimes _he_ does wish he could keep Niccolò all to himself, only to realize that he’s much happier to see him _truly_ mingle, being surrounded by people who remind him that he is not alone.  
Because, let’s be honest, Martino cannot be enough. Not all the time. He’s made peace with being part of a support _system_.

Nevertheless, he finds jealousy endearing when it comes to Niccolò. The way he leans over to check who he is writing to, not even bothering to be subtle. How he resorts to harmless pranks to let his boyfriend know that he should be given his **full** attention.

He can’t say he’s surprised when Nì asks him about Filippo, and then tries to talk him out of having drink with another man. He makes a compelling argument, with that perfect mouth of his around his dick, but Martino sure won’t let a blowjob – or the claim that it’s gonna be the last ever… such an idle threat, is he really supposed to believe that? – no matter how good (he’d give it a 10/10, thanks for asking), change his mind about hanging out with Sava.  
Niccolò can tag along, if he wants, but he won’t stop him from going to the club.

***

“Come on, Fares! How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t do redheads.” Filippo sighs, rolling his eyes.

Niccolò chose to go out with Martino, of course, and dashed from the counter to the table as soon as he heard Marti laugh at something Fili had said.

“Care to share it with me too, Sava?” He said cheerfully, in that passive aggressive attitude of his that has Martino wish he could have him now, right on this table.  
It never feels like a lack of trust on Nico’s part; it’s more like ‘I can’t believe the whole world out there doesn’t think you’re the best thing they’ve ever set their eyes on.’ 

“I don’t believe you, but it doesn’t matter.” Niccolò concedes, then kisses Martino to prove that he’s not lying. _‘It doesn’t matter because he’s mine, are we clear? You don’t stand a chance’_

“Okay guys… We’re not here for…. Whatever is going on between you two.” Martino groans, as soon as they part. “What do you needs us for, Filì?” 

“Well, I thought you could help me with next year Pride Parade…”


	12. Birthday Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble inspired by this post ["http://sonhoedesrazao.tumblr.com/post/180168698973/in-s1-martino-says-to-eva-that-gio-tells-him](http://sonhoedesrazao.tumblr.com/post/180168698973/in-s1-martino-says-to-eva-that-gio-tells-him)

“So... What’s your plan?” Martino’s eighteenth birthday is fast approaching and, as his best friend, Gio _has_ to make sure that it’s going to be awesome.  
Sure, it won’t take more that just being there - with plenty of beer and weed - to make him happy... But Gio wants to make it _memorable_.  
Martino deserves it, after the year he had. 

A FIFA tournament in a gay bar? He’s down for that.  
Getting on a stage with a guitar, having Niccolò on the piano, and singing together one of the countless songs Fares wrote about Marti? No problem, dude.

Fantastic idea, by the way. If they are gonna throw _Fix You_ in there, too, Martino will love it.

On the other hand, he’s been told about Niccolò’s weird ideas about romance and placese where one can have a good time.

“My plan? What plan? The plan I have carefully designed for Martino’s birthday? That plan? Martino’s birthday plan?” Niccolò teases, throwing one arm around Giovanni’s shoulders. “All I can say, for now, is that I have one. You will all get more details on the day itself. You will be involved, don’t worry. I wouldn’t steal Marti away from you for the whole night. I really can’t give away more, I’m sorry. It’s supposed to be a surprise, and you guys tell each other everything, don’t you? I’m not sure I can trust you.”

“Likewise, zi’. You think I don’t know about the trash cans? About Renato? Or asking him to meet you in the boys’ restroom? I mean, what the... I thought that only happened in pornos.” Niccolò feigns a surprised and wounded look, like he can’t quite believe that his beloved Martino would share with Giovanni all of that.

He’s grinning, though, so he’s not taking it too personally.  
“You’re just too bound to your overused ideas of a romantic gesture to appreciate my genious, Garau.”

“Whatever. Point is: you’re lucky you’re cute. But I’m not having my best friend’s party in a graveyard or something. Chilling at McDonald’s or spending the night at your’s eating shitty carbonara isn’t an option either. Now listen what I have in mind...”   



	13. Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: haha, well, not too original i know but since we know almost nothing about how nico's spending that infamous Week Apart™, I think quite a lot about how he can interpret marti's long absence, how he's forcing himself not to write marti 474774 messages asking if he's alright (rip), and so on. in other words, i think nico's pov in this situation is quite interesting. what do you think?

~~“Hey, how are you?”~~

Okay, that’s just stupid. No way he’s sending it.  
What kind of answer can he expect from Marti, other than “I’m fine.” ?  
Martino does not owe him the truth. It’d be kinda hypocritical of him to demand honesty, when he has been anything but.

He’s got not right to reach out and assess the damage he caused, when he knew damn well he wasn’t just breaking his own heart when he wrote that they were going too fast and that he needed time.

It doesn’t matter that he didn’t mean to hurt him.It still happened, and all because he had no impulse control. He saw something he wanted and he took it, screw the consequences.  
He **deserves** tofeel like he’s barely holding on, already exhausted from the second he steps out bed.  
He should consider himself lucky that Maddalena had took him back, really.

                                                         /////  
 ~~  
”Are you sick or something? I haven’t seen you in school for a while.”  
~~  
Seven days. It’s been that long since he last saw Martino. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of him from the balcony outside his classroom, at least, but he hasn’t shown up to school since last Friday.

More than once, he’s tempted to walk over to Marti’s friends and ask if they have heard anything from him but… Subtlety is not his strong suit and what if end up giving away more than he’s supposed to? What if he outs Martino to those guys by mistake?  
He can’t risk it.

 ~~“Have you been eating properly?”~~  
 ~~“What about sleep?”~~  
 ~~“Are you taking good care of yourself?”  
~~  
Niccolò is starting to wonder what’s really behind his prolonged absence, because there’s no need to miss a whole week of school just to avoid him.  
What if Maddalena reached out to Martino, revealing everything he’s been hiding so carefully? No, no… She would never. She _loves_ him, doesn’t she?  
And even if she did, Martino wouldn’t be running away. He is not the coward, in their story. 

And when they finally meet on Wednesday, he’s more worried than hurt.   
Afraid that he can’t get through to him, can’t even lift some weight off his shoulders and make him smile.  
Terrified that Martino won’t have anyone to lean on: he’s been watching him and he has noticed how lonely he looks lately, and that he doesn’t spend his break with those three rowdy boys like he used to.   
He’s fading before his eyes, and there’s nothing he can do about it… 

Or perhaps there is.

~~“What are you doing? Rewatching The Last Man On Earth without me?”~~   
~~“Have you ever taken riding lessons?”~~   
~~“What if I told you I was looking for a virus?”~~

Blue. Blue. Blue everywhere. All the time. He can’t stand it anymore.  
He can’t stand Marti being so cold, so broken, losing that shade of red he loves so much about him…

 _‘Words are meaningless and forgettable. Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm_ _.’_ Martin Gore knew what he was talking about, when he wrote _Enjoy The Silence_ , didn’t he?

He can do better than words.

********************************************

I love @skamsnake‘s take on Niccolò’s state of mind so much I’ve put a little tribute to that in here. To have a better understanding of what’s the deal with him and colors I recommend you all go read this beautiful fanfic: “[Sold My Heart To Heal My Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16309523/chapters/39021617)”  



	14. At last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Gio finds out Marti likes boys

For a moment, he hesitates. 

He’s already so _fucking_ glad that Martino finally reached out to him, putting an end to that self-inflicted isolation Gio couldn’t quite understand. He didn’t need him to say that he was sorry for what happened at Covitti’s party, or for shutting him out for ten days… Not when he could see him squirm under his stare and being still so unsure where they stood despite the talk they had on the bus on Monday. 

He didn’t expect Martino to open up - he didn’t _dare_ to hope he would - and actually talk to him without hiding behind the same old lies.

He plays along, letting Martino do most of the talking because this moment is about _him_ and not Giovanni. Of course it’s not Emma. Or Sana.

It’s not like he had no clue Marti likes boys: anyone with eyes would have noticed there was something between him and the ‘earphones guy’ (who was pretty good looking, by the way: go big or go home, Martino!). 

Gio has been waiting for this moment for months, now and he knows he is not being fair on Martino, who is probably already picturing the worst case scenario, but…  It’s a big deal for his best friend and he doesn’t want to make him feel like it isn’t by saying something stupid like “Oh, really? I’ve always know you were gay!”

Because he isn’t, he could very well be bi. 

Because it would be lying, since he’s only had an inkling about it for a couple of weeks.

So he mulls over his next words for a second, and then decides to make sure it’s not him who has been inadvertently hurting Martino for so long. 

“You? No, no, no… It’s not you.”

He’s half relieved, half disappointed that it’s not him Martino is crushing on. 

Unrequited love isn’t pretty, no matter how hard someone tried to work around it - look at him still hung up on Eva, when she has clearly moved on already - but hey, he’s far from repulsive so to have Martino denying having feelings for him so resolutely… It does sting a bit. Nothing compared to seeing Martino finally smiling back, being happy _for real_ , though.

“Well, he’s hot.” Giovanni says, because that’s a fact. He’s lost count of the times he commented on the other guys tastes in women, so why should he hold his tongue now? He’s straight, not blind. 

Next thing he does is making sure where Martino stands with this boy… And then he wishes he had his number or something, because **no one** is allowed to be such a jerk to his best friend and get away with it.

Of course Marti had been devastated that night, at Covitti’s party. It had made sense, _now._

Anyway… Judging from the way Martino smiles at whatever he found in his backpack, maybe not all hope is lost that the guy will realize he’s missing out on someone _amazing_.

“By the way… I really think he should dump the girl.” He tells Martino, and it’s going to be his final comment on the matter. 

Whatever happens between those two is none of his business, all he needs is for his friend to stop being so miserable.

To be aware that Giovanni doesn’t find _him_ repulsive, that nothing has changed between the two of them and that there’s no way he’s ever gonna let Martino sleep on the floor again… Unless it’s him who feels uncomfortable sharing a bed with Gio, of course.

He doesn’t say _that_.  He reaches out, instead, grasping him firmly by the shoulder and ruffles his hair before letting go. 

He knows Martino got the message.

“Come on, play!” 


	15. The best friend EVER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you do the end of ep 7 when Marti throws the boys out of the house because of Nico?

Damn, you are a good friend Giovanni Garau.

The best ever. And you can’t even take the credit, because it would be embarassing for anyone involved to admit that you went looking for Fares at school - stalking him outside of Covitti’s class, 5B - and asked him to have a quick chat with you.

Well, more like a one-sided conversation.

“Look, I don’t know what’s the deal with you and I don’t particularly care but… I need you to stop being such an asshole to my best friend, okay?” And it would have been easier to sound threatening if Fares hadn’t looked like you had just run over his puppy. Damn. He was the one playing games with Martino’s heart, he had no right to act all sad and crestfallen.

If he wasn’t hurting Martino on purpose, if his hesitation when it came to pick Martino over his girlfriend came from trying to work out how to minimize the damage - and you knew, after Laura and Eva, that one always ended up underestimating it - for all parties involved… You could understand that. 

Maybe the guy just needed a push in the right direction. A helping hand.

“I’m giving you until the end of this week to decide whether you want to give Martino a chance. I think you should, but well… I’m kinda biased here, you know?” You tried your best not to break into a smile, as you recalled how happy Martino had been when he found those post-it notes in his backpack. 

Fares should totally dump his girlfriend for him, come on. “Don’t even think of trying to reach out until you made up your mind, are we clear? I’m watching you.” You made your point with a gesture, from your own eyes to his, and then you walked away.

To show him that you could just as inconspicuous as him, you slipped in a message in his pocket during recess with an address and your own phone number written on it.

Hopefully, he would make good use of it.

That he did. 

You did your part, telling your best friend that he should ask Fares to quit fucking around and be honest with him.

‘I’m already on my way. Almost there. Don’t tell Marti.’ He wrote to you, as soon as he received that text from Martino.

_What are you doing, can we talk?_

As expected, Martino asked you all if he should answer that text and how.

_‘Minding my own fucking business, thanks for asking. I don’t wanna talk.’_ Not even Elia fell for that, rolling his eyes. 

“You’re mad, I know, but you don’t wanna be that blunt. Besides, you’re giving him leverage by letting him know how worked up you can get over him.” He wisely explained to a bemused Martino.

“Tell him the truth, but be as terse as you can: _‘chiling at the lakehouse with my friends.’_ That’s it, that’s all you gonna give him. Don’t call him.” You agreed, as you wrote _‘Don’t come knocking until I tell you to.’_ to Fares.

You barely heard that guy’s voice but you couldn’t see an outcome where Martino didn’t turn into a stuttering mess as soon as he said ‘Ciao’.

“Smiley face?” Martino asked, before sending his text.

“No smiley faces.” Luchino shook his head, as you all hummed in agreement.

“No hearts and absolutely NO ‘NI’. Call him ‘Fares’, if you must.” Elia said, smiling smugly. “You gotta play a bit harder to get, Marti. Who doesn’t like a challenge?”

‘ _Now, Fares_.’

So here we are. Someone just knocked, and you pretend not to know who might be out there. You even start rolling a joint, so that you can send Martino to open the door.

“Ciao.”

“Ciao. What are doing h-…”

Martino doesn’t get to finish his sentence, and it’s easy to imagine why. 

You share a look with the others, and you can see that each of you is thinking along the same line: ‘ _Better make ourselves scarce, now, or we’ll have to bleach our eyes later. Thanks, but no thanks._ ’

“But guys! I don’t even know where my shoes are!” Luchino groans, as he gets ushered outside by an impatient Elia. Fuck. The moans you hear from the entrance will haunt you for many nights to come. “I really wanted to meet Niccolò!”

“So did we, but I guess there’ll be better times to do that than right in this moment, Luchino.” You concede, as you write a message to Martino on the kitchen table using some flour, to let him know that you are very aware of how his night with Nico ended and that you’re happy for them both.

Now all you’ve got to do is find a way to get home.

Fares’ bike will have to do. Considering how much he owes you, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind.

Yep. Giovanni Garau is really the best friend ever.

—————————————————————-

A/N: The message in the flour, of course, is this one: [https://img.photobucket.com/albums/v77/Phoenix_Bellamy/Ds7PRbyXoAAjP9e.jpg](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fimg.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fv77%2FPhoenix_Bellamy%2FDs7PRbyXoAAjP9e.jpg&t=MGI0NjgwOTcyNzdiNjIyZGRlNzRkZTI3M2QyMzAwMzY2ZDMzNGEwNixiMWVjNzhmMDUyZDU1OTZmYTYxNmQxMDM2YzExZTgxMWM5OTE4ZWM4)


	16. Let's 'talk'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I would like your take on the scene where Nico has come to "talk" and Marti just wants to kiss his face off.

It was pretty amazing how much could change in so little time. It has barely been three weeks since he hit rock bottom, and though he had lost both his friends and Niccolò and now…

Well, now his friends made sure he knows he’s got their back and he doesn’t really know what he did to deserve them but he sure is done complaining about winning the friendship lottery. Or taking them for granted. 

As for Nico…. He still doesn’t quite know where he stands with him – he wants to talk, but then he has got that flirty smile on his lips, that look in his eyes that makes Martino feel hot all over, suddenly overdressed, and out of breath – but he guesses it’s a slightly better place than before. 

It’s hard to trust him when he says that Maddalena is out of the picture for good, this time, but it seems that when it comes to Niccolò it doesn’t matter how many times he’s been burned, he would always walk willingly into that fire. 

“We really should talk.”

Talk, talk, talk.  That’s what he came for, because it’s hard to convey a meaningful message through texts and Martino had declined pretty much all his calls – aside from the one where he still was in a totally‘then perish’ mood to Niccolò’s ‘I don’t think I can live with you’ – but then it’s hard to think straight when they are close enough to kiss and his mind is screaming “OI, WE’RE STILL MAD WITH THIS GUY!!”  and his pride is telling him that there’s no way he should let Niccolò undress him without demanding a decent apology and discussing where they should go from here…  but his body has a totally different opinion and doesn’t give a shit about anything but having this beautiful boy underneath him. Or above him. Doesn’t really make a difference, as long as every inch of their skin his touching.

“Marti… Come on. I know I owe you more than some silly drawings and saying that I’m sorry.”

That is true, but… What can he say that would make all thehurt go away? Make it all worth it?

_‘I love you? I love you so much, and then I realized that I barely know you and that had me so scared that I ran back to my safe place, even though I knew that I didn’t love her anymore?’_

Yeah. Right. 

That’s what he’d like to hear, but he wouldn’t even believe it.

All he’s gonna get are lies, lies, lies. He doesn’t want to listen to more bullshit, thanks. 

He just want to keep kissing Nico, to feel the rise and fall of his chest under his hands. To count his heartbeats, rather than the seconds. 

Niccolò does try to distance himself enough to have a conversation, but Martino makes sure to stop him before he goes  _there._

He’s here, in his arms, and it’s all that matters. He’s done worrying about tomorrow, tonight or even the next hour. He’s done waiting for shoe to drop, for Niccolò to walk away and go back to his (ex?) girlfriend. 

He’s better off without promises, without plans. 

Without a future.


	17. And not a single fuck was given that day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written in Italian but it's so short that I didn't feel like posting a whole new work.

Ha rinunciato a capirlo, Rametta.  
Manco è più degno di essere chiamato per nome, 'sto qui che scompare per dieci - **DIECI** , non due!! - cazzo di giorni senza dire niente a nessuno.  
Senza chiedere scusa, senza avanzare alcuna giustificazione.  
Andasse pure a farsi fottere. Forse è proprio quello il suo problema, no? Che non tromba abbastanza.  
Perché scusa tanto, ma anche lui c'ha due famiglie tra cui dividersi e non ha mai tirato in ballo gli scazzi con mamma e papà per pararsi il culo.

Giovanni, ovviamente, era già disposto a dimenticare tutto al terzo giorno d'assenza consecutivo. Le puttanate su Eva, la spinta che l'aveva fatto cadere a terra... Era quasi come se gli fossero scivolate addosso. Quasi, certo, perché non gli si poteva nominare Martino senza che gli sparisse il sorriso dalla faccia e cambiasse discorso, ma lo si notava da come guardava il suo banco vuoto che se avesse potuto si sarebbe precipitato a casa dell'amico.  
  
Il coglione, però, aveva spento il cellulare. Se anche si fossero presentati da lui tutti e tre, quello era capace di far dire dalla madre che o non era in casa o che stava troppo male per vedere qualcuno.

"Senti... Io ed Eva manco stiamo più assieme, si faccia pure chi cazzo le pare. Voglio sapere che cazzo c'ha Martino in 'sto periodo, piuttosto." Ha sbuffato, quando Elia gli ha fatto notare che non erano loro a doversi esporre quanto piuttosto chi aveva dato il via al litigio.

Luchino, come Giovanni, è piuttosto preoccupato. Si chiede se, come amici, non dovrebbero fare di più. No, cazzo. Proprio no.

Dovrebbero fare come lui, che se ne frega e non controlla mai se un certo nome è apparso sulla chat dei Contrabbandieri.  
Come lui, che giusto saluta il redivivo tornato in classe il 19 e si limita a stare nel suo banco e a non invadere lo spazio vitale che Rametta considera così prezioso.

A lui, tanto, mica manca quel cazzone di Marti. Quello con la stoccata sarcastica sempre lì pronta, la sua spalla per prendere per il culo quel sottone di Gio o per salvare Luchino da sé stesso. Non si pone affatto le domande che tormentano gli altri. Chi cazzo se ne frega di quello che passa per la testa di quello là.

S'accorgerà, prima o poi, che non può _e non deve_ reggerne tutto il peso da solo... Ci sono gli amici per questo, no?  
Spera che sia prima, che poi.


	18. Frittini e pizzette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vagamente ispirata ad una scena dell'og che credo stia all'interno della 8a puntata.

“Al nostro matrimonio verranno serviti soltanto frittini e pizzette.” Annuncia Niccolò, fregando il cibo dalle mani di Martino per poi portarglielo alle labbra.

Sta correndo troppo? Può darsi.  
Ma è sincero: con Martino, lui, ci vuole davvero passare la vita. Lo farà fuggire a gambe levate? Crede di no. Il suo ragazzo non si fa certo spaventare così facilmente.

 _Il suo ragazzo._ Sembra incredibile poterlo chiamare così: è un pensiero che gli mozza il fiato e fa battere il suo cuore all’impazzata.

Martino non scappa, ma abbassa lo sguardo e sorride. Cazzo, quanto è adorabile. Se lo mangerebbe di baci. 

“Mettiamo pure che io ti dica di sì, quando troverò l’anello in un pacchetto di patatine o quando mi farai la proposta davanti alla tomba di uno sconosciuto, inventandoti chissà quale storia strappalacrime... Ma sei fuori di testa se pensi sul serio che io lasci che ti occupi del catering.”  

Parole pesanti, che lo prendono in contropiede. Si morde un labbro, incerto su come reagire. 

È felice, ora. Euforico, addirittura ed il torno di Marti è scherzoso. Non c’è ragione di rovinare questo momento per un nonnulla.   
Non vuole saltare di nuovo a conclusioni totalmente sbagliate.

“Sarebbe un problema?” Chiede, sfiorandogli lo zigomo e domandandosi perché diavolo stiano ancora parlando quando potrebbero tornare ad esplorare l’uno il corpo dell’altro, archiviando ogni più piccola reazione...

“Offrire pizzette e frittini ai nostri invitati? No, cioè... È che nun me va de’ fa’ la figura del pezzente.” Dice, con estrema serietà. Come se questa non fosse una discussione ipotetica, come se da questa discussione dipendesse l’organizzazione delle loro future nozze.

“Be’, certo, visto che te sei trovato uno coi _big money_...” Inarca un sopracciglio, provocando Martino con una leggera spinta sulla spalla.  
Gli amici suoi - i Contrabbandieri -  l’hanno subito preso in giro al riguardo, proprio perché gliel’han dovuto far notare loro che uno con casa vicino a San Pietro e la colf non è certo un poveraccio.

“Manco fossero tuoi. Comunque no. Non lo definirei un _problema_. Non più delle tue abilità culinarie o della tua discutibile definizione di ‘posto romantico’ “ Ribatte con un pizzicotto sulla coscia, scendendo poi a baciare la sua pelle arrossata. Sta diventando così _audace_. 

Gli ci vuole tutta la sua forza di volontà per non invitarlo a risalire un po’, con quelle labbra dispettose. Per restare fermo, senza tradire quanto gli costi.

“Se non apprezzi il mio innegabile genio, puoi anche proporre qualcosa te. Mica muori.”

Martino spera di interrompere la conversazione accarezzandogli un fianco e strofinando il naso contro il suo inguine, ora. Diversivo encomiabile e quasi riuscito. Quasi.

“Intendevo se è un problema che io sia fuori di testa.” Lascia scorrere una mano tra i suoi capelli, appigliandosi alla nuca di Martino. Neanche il gesto potesse influenzare la sua risposta.   
Renderla ciò che Niccolò vorrebbe sentire.

“Ma te pare?” Lo squadra come si sentisse quasi offeso da quell’insinuazione. “Senti, se devi usarla per dire cazzate, troviamole un’altra occupazione a ‘sta bocca...”

Si lascia distrarre, questa volta.  
Molto più piacevole dell’alternativa. 


End file.
